


stupidities of the fathers

by pseudofaux



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Felix hate hate hates all their DADs, Felix is MAD, Felix is sad, Gen, a couple light pre-timeskip spoilers, character study i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-08 11:47:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21475498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudofaux/pseuds/pseudofaux
Summary: Felix can stand none of their groveling, none of their hypocrisy, none of their words, none of their faces.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	stupidities of the fathers

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, he's a complete cat. I love him. Sometimes I struggle reading his supports and monastery conversations with classmates, but when Felix is mad at Those Who Came Before Him I GET IT.

One day, the earnest heart behind Annette’s ribs is going to call an arrow like a magnet. And she’ll never sing another song, and he will be _furious_ at the stupid father who made her the way she is, by action and absence: willing to rush in with her hands full and her mouth smiling, to tumble when she trips and keep going, tenacious in a way that becomes apparent when you pay her attention from day to day. Maybe she would have these qualities if her father had any kind of sense, but if she'd _had_ a father they wouldn't be pitched so sharply and her eyes wouldn't be so tired below their glossy quickness.

Someday, Ingrid is going to jab too hard in the wrong direction, her hand behind lance or lace, and he'll have nothing helpful to say and he will _hate_ her father who made her the way she is. Lord Galatea’s a fool like the rest of them, to give his daughter space to read and dream a life that can’t exist alongside plans she can't escape. Pathetic, weak old man. Even in their circumstances, neither Ingrid or her father have to suffer this way. They just do, as though suffering improves their lives. What a farce.

Any day now, Sylvain will jilt the wrong lover, or worse. And Felix will have nothing to do with the indiscretion, but he’ll have to deal with the fact that someone he knows that well has become so much an imbecile, running any way away from his father's expectations. Sylvain may be the most deliberately stupid person he knows, and the Margrave's inability or lack of interest in stabilizing his son may actually hurt their house, but what is the _point_ of interfering? Sylvain will seek caresses while the hands that stroke him don’t know any better, don’t know what kind of son he is or father he could be. The depth of the jagged crack in Sylvain’s worldview is exhausting to consider. All thanks to his father. 

He can barely remember King Lambert, but Felix remembers suspecting, even as a child, that the King was overconfident. He remembers being told that was a kingly quality, but no one could tell him, then or now, that overconfidence was a good thing. Because it never is. He's not one to mince words about the dead, but he can't finish the thought that if the prince is a boar, the king was... and he shouldn't have to, and if reasonableness was a kingly quality, would Felix even have all this rage in his chest?

Ashe's fathers failed him, and a hurting boy is all that’s left of either of them now. It's only a matter of time before he never smiles again. Felix can't summon kindness, but pity takes no effort. Lonato fought, at least, but he didn't tell his son what was going on. Fathers never seem to do that. Do they believe themselves above consequence, despite their children? It makes him want to tear his hair out, there has to be some sharp, grounding pain or he will crack his back teeth.

And the one who imperils his molars the most: Rodrigue, every day since the first day Felix hated him, hasn't faltered-- like the loss of one son and enmity of the remaining one doesn't matter. He could spit in his father's food and so-beloved, dutiful Rodrigue would just eat it with that resigned face. In this case it is the older Fraldarius who can't summon words, and Felix is almost grateful for it: the very sound of his father's voice sets his jaw so firmly it gives him a headache. 

The Brigid princess, the miserable Edmund girl and the little white-haired viper, the empress-to-be, hell, everyone: their fathers are failures, their deaths both curse and blesséd—tch— escape from further harm. It seems so universal a condition he's annoyed with himself for holding it against them all that they don't even seem to notice. But certainly, he _hates_ their fathers. Those men made and left a world where their children have no choice but to climb with bloodied palms up the side of an endless cliff, and if they ever let go, even for a second, they will fall.

When he dreams of falling backward, he hears Glenn's scream as though it is coming from very far away. He fights off those dreams by training until he knows he has only a little more than the strength he needs to walk back to his room and fall back to sleep, sweaty and miserable and too aware of the world’s failures to do anyone any good. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm on tumblr as pseudofaux and on twitter/insta as pseudofauxtome if you'd like to say hi. :)


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